Memoirs of a Guardsman
by French Punk
Summary: On the fringe of known space, the 31st Harakonian Regiment is sent to respond to the disappearance of two regiments of the Imperial Guard. Unaware of the threat they are facing, they will discover that in the midst of battle, the line beetween friend and foe can be easily broken...
1. Introduction

Memoirs of a Guardsman

I can't believe I'm doing this.

Hello to you, who probably found this journal in a carbonised hab block, or, if I'm lucky, in some random box after I die.

How to start, how to start... I guess I should present myself.

I am Anvaro Trak, former soldier of the 31st Harakonian Regiment of the Imperial Guard.

My fate, and the fate of my entire regiment, is considered as lost. But the truth is far more impossible – and, in the eyes of the rest of the Imperial population, probably more heretical than anything they've ever heard about.

But first, let me start over to the beginning, when my regiment was sent onto Draetheus IV onto Segmentum Obscurus to respond to the disappearance of two regiments in the sector.

For the first time in years, we received an honest briefing from General Orkont. We were dropping in feet first into unknown territory, facing an unknown foe. Long-range scan denied the possibility of a Tyrannid infestation, which came to a relief for our veterans, who battled the abominations on Nikea VI and came back with knowledge of the adversary, and utter fear of the threat they posed to the Imperium.

The planet reminded me of Kalabesh Secundus, a planet akin to Catachan, with for difference the absence of any dangerous lifeform on the planet. A true paradise, which was probably terraformed, just like many of these planets so precious we were undeserving to disturb their innocence.

The vegetation was rich, and nature was taking its rights upon this jewel of a planet.

Most of us were taking great care of our grav-chutes or las-carbines, checking our helmets and our carapace armors for any cracks or dent. We had no idea what had taken the other regiments, but Orkont was no fool, and us neither. Whatever had made our collegues go silent was waiting patiently for us to arrive, and we would surprise the threat by our agility on the battlefield. Everyone in the regiment knew how to drop from a Valkyrie, activite the grav-chute and engage targets as soon as they hit the ground in an organized fashion.

After a week of scanning of the planet, Commissar Lirko informed us of the nature of the threat; Eldars. We didn't show our reaction in front of him, of course, but most of us were gakking scared. We knew that this treacherous race could sacrifice billions of us for but a handful of them, without any hesitation. We had no priests on board, but those who lead the confessions when we halted onto a planet often told us of how the Eldar embodied everything of cowardice. The squad he was motivating was wiped out by a squad of Howling Banshees, and he owed his survival only to his mighty chainsword and the support of a Stormtrooper squad.

We were not ready for a fight against the Exodites. But what could we do? We had our orders, and so we loaded up in the Valkyries by dawn, chomping on cigars or checking equipment one last time.

In my life, I always felt a feeling of apprehension before dropping down. But now, it was more than just that. I felt like I would never leave this planet. Taking a look around me, I saw the same expression on the faces of my squadmates. We knew we would probably all die down there, but we still kept going. Not for Orkont, not for Lirko. For the God-Emperor of Man, for the Imperium, but most of all, for Harakon and our families there.


	2. Deployment

_**Deployment**_

 **Time +2 hours after departure from regimental ship**

The Valkyrie was clouded in the smokes of our cigars and stinked of our intense sweating. All of us were waiting in silence, fiddling with our las-carbines, stretching our arms, or praying to the God-Emperor.

In an instant, our shell of apprehension and anticipation was broken as the alarm ringed. Red lights flashed over and we all unstrapped ourselves from our seats, making two lines at the tail of the dropship. Several moments later, the hatch of the Valkyrie lowered, and we sealed off our pressure helmets, letting but our eyes appear. Beetween our two lines stood seargent Kelp, who held his closed fist raised, his eyes cold as ice ever since he lost his squad to Eldar forces during an Imperial offensive which turned into a massacre. He had personnaly asked the Commissar to lead our squad to secure the landing zone, and Lirko accepted. We all doubted him. His judgement was altered by past experience, and contrarily to what our Commissar thought, unrelenting fury wasn't that much of a good asset.

My thoughts were interrupted as he lowered his fist and shouted at the top of his lungs, " _ **Jump!**_ "

The squad members in front of me jumped one after the other, freefalling until they were close enough to activate their grav-chutes, something that required a steely resolve.

One after the other, they all jumped down, Kelp going too when we reached half of our initial numbers, until there was but me and Valsia, a battle-hardened veteran, left aboard.

She turned around and gave me a half-hearted smile, before placing her closed fist onto her chestplate. I answered to her salute in the same way before sprinting toward the opening and jumping.

For a moment, I was falling wildly, unable to controlling my trajectory whatsoever. But eventually, I took the right position, arms and legs extended, forming a cross with my body, controlling my fall. Below me, I could see the others dealing as best as they could with the insertion, the first to jump already activating their grav-chutes to slow down their fall and eventually reach the ground safely. As I fell, I couldn't help but think about the implications of this deployment. Were those Eldars heavily armed? Was our firepower sufficient enough? These questions kept rolling inside my head, as I had no answers for them.

Finally I reached the level of altitude where I would need to initiate the controlled fall and activate my grav chute. As I did so and used the power of the jetpack-like device to stabilize myself to a straight position once again, I saw that half of the squad had landed safely, Kelp leading them and scanning the drop zone for any contacts.

I was about to reach the ground when a sniper shot went right through my grav-chute.

The propellers went haywire, sending me flying in unprobably arcs in the sky as I could hear Valsia yelling " **Sniper!** " and the discharge of several las-carbines in panic. It was of no use, as las-carbines sacrifice range and rate of fire for more accesibility and folding grips. The sniper of our groups, Tanak, was probably already setting into motion, but I couldn't see or hear anything clearly in my current state.

I let out a scream as I hit the ground and blacked out.

* * *

 **Time +4 hours after deployment**

I woke up inside a medic tent, finding Commissar Lirko to be standing at my side, hands behind his back. My dazed mind took some time to process the information as I came back to my senses. What was he doing here? I hadn't done anything that could be deemed heretical in a long time (and the last time was when I used a Tau rifle to kill a Krootox).

As he noticed I was awaken, he searched for something in his coat, and pullet out an insignia, which he placed upon my chestplate, which was laying with the rest of my carapace armor on a shelf near the bed I was lying on.

"Seargent Kelp died to one of the treacherous xenos shortly after you were shot, guardsman. We went through your experience in the battlefield and estimated you would be the most fitting person in this squad to replace him. This is why Colonel Gok promoted you to the rank of seargent of the 4th squad of the 31st Harakonian Regiment, in the name of Segmentum Command, the High Lords of Terra and the Emperor."

I had stopped listening to him as soon as he spoke the word "promoted". I never wanted to be promoted. Seargents had to deal with a lot of shit in the guard, and it was generally the worst position to have in my opinion. Being an anonymous guardsman was fine by me. But now, I'd be leading my squad, the people I bled and fought with. Could I bear the burden of leading them into battle, seeing them dying before me? That I did not know, as the Commissar gave me a small piece of paper with informations on them and left.

The paper was but instructions to get my new wargear at the armory, with a stamp from the Colonel to prove the official nature of the demand.

I shook my head in disbelief. They already had set the ground base? Folding the paper and placing it in a pocket of my uniform, I stood up from the bed, holding my head as I felt a surge of pain inside it. My fall was not lethal, but apparently, I would still have to watch out for a week or so. If it wasn't for the helmet, I would had been dead.

Groaning from the pain in my skull, I reached for my carapace armor and started to equip it, strapping it on. My trusty las-carbine was still here, and I eagerly took it in my hands, checking if anyone had tempered with it. I had this piece of weaponry ever since I entered in the Harakonian Warhawks, and I cherished it as much as Valsia cherished the bolter round she kept as a trinket for good luck. Taking a last look around me, I saw that all of the beds were already occupied. It had been barely a handful of hours, and we already had a lot of wounded mens. Too much of them. The medicaes were desperatly trying to stabilize the wounded, waiting for supply drops and the contrusction of an actual medical station by the techpriests instead of a medical tent. Shaking my head, I left the tent as two tired medics entered it, carrying the sniper of 2nd squad, Tanak's rival. Shot in the gut, barely breathing, the bandages wrapped around his wound already soaked in his blood. How much Imperial blood had been spilled in but four hours? The truth was terrifying and impossible to accept.

Walking toward one of the only buildings of the forward base that was at least partially constructed, the gigantic blocks of ceramite still being assembled by the techpriests, I had to step aside as a particulary busy corporal ran past me to the headquarters, carrying what looked like a list of available weaponry.

As I reached the interior of the almost-finished structure, a seargent raised his head, frowning as he saw me approaching.

"What's it for?"

His voice was clearly making me know that I was but another man in hundreds who came to him today, asking for wargear or supplies. Instead of arguing with him, I simply gave him the note, which he had trouble reading due to the thick smoke in the room, caused by the machines of the techpriests. Finally, he groaned and stood up from his chair.

"I'd have to get you a laspistol with a sword, but I don't have any available right now. Do you mind using a shotgun?"

I simply shrugged and placed my las-carbine onto the weapons rack, saddened to have to let go of my treasured rifle. "I guess I can learn."

He handed me the shotgun and inspected the las-carbine, a smirk coming up on his face and revealing to me that the skin that should had covered his teeth was missing, disforming his face into a rictus. I realized he wasn't here because of a choice, but because he voluntarily exiled himself from his squad. Trying to ignore this depressing fact, I gave him my helmet after unstrapping it, watching as he expertly modified it to integrate to my radio the capacity to control squad chatter. He was the first to break the silence, his eyes never leaving the headset.

"So, what got you promoted?"

I looked away, embarassed that I had become a seargent to replace someone. The implication of this were grim. We were all replaceable.

"My seargent got killed by a sniper, apparently. Colonel Gok thought I would fit the bill."

I heard him huff in disdain at the mention of the Colonel. He was majorly dislike among the regiment, judged too willing to send us to a certain death to get himself more glory. We often questionned his order behind the Commissar's back, the veterans shaking their heads and praying to the Emperor that a lucky shot would get him some day.

My thoughts were interrupted as the seargent let out a proud exclamation, his arms crossed.

"Good as new! I integrated the command vox system. If you ever need to mute one of your squad members while his legs have been blown off and he's screaming to hell, that might prove in handy."

I took the helmet and equipped it, knowing that he wasn't joking, which terrified me. Still, I placed my closed fist on my chestplate as a salute and left, longing to leave this smoke-filled place and the terrifying rictus of the seargent.

As I left the building, I activated the com link of my headset, trying to find my squad's frequency. I realized with delight that the seargent had thought about it and prepared a fonctionnality that would allow me to lock the frequency as the default one.

When I finally found the right frequency, I realized I didn't know what to say. Seeing the very people I bled with on so many battlefields, who were the same rank as me all this time, now beneath me in the command chain, was a violent realization. I would not be their equal anymore, but their superior. And Emperor-knew how our comradry saved us on so many forsaken worlds.

Inhaling deeply, I engaged the comm link and spoke, my voice steadier than had expected it to be.

"Seargent Trak reporting for duty. 4th Squad, give your location, over."

Instantly, the comm link became silent. I waited like this for an entire minutes, until someone broke the awkward silence.

"We are in the Valkyrie of the 2nd squad, seargent."

Tanak's voice was dead cold, confirming my greatest fears. Sighing, I turned off my micro and made for the dropship, impossible to miss, as the hangar was the only building the techpriests had completely built.


End file.
